Silent Angel
by Deader than the Doornail
Summary: Since the war ended, Niles tried not to dwell upon his past. He tried to be like Corrin, and looked optimistically toward the future. Sometimes, however, he faltered; despite his blessings, Niles doubted whether he was truly deserving of a family and home. Thus, when his silent angel wakes him one morning to cry on her father's shoulder, Niles cries with her.


**Author's Note: The following fan fiction takes place after the events of _Fire Emblem: Fates._ I have tried to capture in this short story my interpretation of Niles' life after the _Conquest_ route: Though he still remains close to and completes tasks for Lord Leo, Niles has settled down with his family in an impoverished city, where he attempts to reform the lives of the citizens. Niles is married to the female avatar, named Corrin; in addition to Nina and Kana (the former presumably not living with her family), they have two younger daughters - Nana, aged five, and Nora, aged three. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to _Fire Emblem._ I do not own the cover art for this story.**

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 **— Silent Angel —**

Niles thought he was asleep. His vision was still dark, and he had been dreaming — a pleasant dream, for once. Yet it had burst suddenly, leaving him with a vague awareness that would not pass. He remained on the bed, lying very still, hoping to lure sleep back into his clutches.

Something cold touched his nose. Niles reared, his hands reaching for weapons that he no longer stored beneath his pillow. He stared at the empty air in front of him, then looked down; two wide red eyes gazed up at him, blinking rapidly to keep frightened tears from slipping down the pale cheeks.

"Nora," Niles breathed in relief. He was suddenly fully awake, springing from exhaustion into the position of father. He removed his hands from the pillowcase, glad he had not found what he had been groping for; he considered his appearance, focusing in order to feel the soft touch of his clothing and the pressure of the patch over his right eye. Satisfied, he pushed back the covers and rose from the bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked Nora, glancing over her small body, checking for signs of pain. The little girl made no reply; she did not even nod. She only lowered her head and reached out for his hand, her fingertips cold on Niles' skin. He fell to one knee to study her more closely, but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

 _She looks okay,_ he thought, searching her face as best he could. _No tears this time._ He ran a hand over her black curls, wishing he could shake whatever nightmare plagued her from her mind.

"If only you would tell me what's wrong, kid," Niles murmured, "maybe then we could both sleep at night."

Still, Nora said nothing. She stared at the floor, watching her bare toes tap the wood, as if she hadn't heard.

 _Did you hear me?_ Niles wondered, struggling to stifle a sigh. He lifted Nora into his arms, and she rested her head against his shoulder. "We'll go downstairs so we don't wake your mother," he whispered. He waited, but Nora didn't react. He took one step and she clung tightly to his hair, as if startled. Niles felt like screaming, but he managed to leave the bedroom without waking his wife.

The house was small and made entirely of wood. When Niles was in a good mood, he called it a shack; when his mood was foul, he called it a hellhole not fit to be used as a hound's privy. Corrin feigned love for it, for his sake, as his social reformations paid little money to feed their family. She cleaned the two floors with a rag and bucket every day, and scraped together some little money to keep the house furnished with some luxuries, such as rugs and vases. Some days, when the weather wasn't bad enough to make the floor squeak, the shack could almost pass for pretty.

Niles closed the bedroom door and was immediately confronted by the stairs leading to the first floor. He glanced to the right, noticing the orange glow of the raising sun through the window; then he turned left, and peered into the room that Nora shared with her elder sister, Nana. The door was open, and Niles could see that Nana lay asleep under the covers. Finally, he crept downstairs.

The first floor was more spacious than the second. Niles walked into what they considered a dining room, which was no more than a shaky table with five chairs set around it, a vase and white flower decorating the center. It was impossible to turn right after descending the staircase, for the house did not stretch in that direction; but to the left, Corrin had managed to designate a kitchen area, a seating area, and a bit of floor space for the children to play, all without the use of walls. It required explanation and memory, Niles thought, but Corrin insisted that the layout was obvious.

 _"Just look,"_ she often said to counter Niles' complaints, _"the kitchen is obviously where the fireplace is. We have shelves to store our pots and ingredients, and the closet under the stairs works well as a pantry for food. Never mind that Kana sleeps on the floor — that's at night! Now look, against that wall, all those chairs gathered in a circle with those tables and rug mean we can sit and face each other and have a delightful conversation. … Niles, don't be vulgar, please. And we still have some room left for the girls' toys. We'll call it the nursery! … All right, all right, we won't call it that. We'll just call it a bit of floor space, hm?"_

Aware of Kana's soft snoring, Niles strolled toward the chairs that Corrin had arranged in a neat circle across the room. They were comfortable and sturdy, but old and shabby to look at; Niles only liked them when he was seated in one, and thus blind to its appearance. He took a seat now, settling down with a tired sigh. Nora sat on his lap, picking at a loose button on his shirt.

A thin finger of light slipped through a crack in the window's curtain and pointed at Nora. Niles obediently watched her, aware of the silence that engulfed them. He knew she was upset and still suffering from the effects of her nightmare; he knew that his voice would comfort her. Yet he hesitated to speak, wondering whether she would be able to hear him.

 _She wasn't always like this,_ Niles thought, his hands clenched around the arms of the chair. _As a baby, she was normal. She could hear us, I'm sure. When did this start? It must have been when she was learning to speak. She started young, not even a year and half old — Nana tried so hard to teach Nora her name. Nora almost had it, and then…_ Niles stopped, struggling to recall. _Wasn't that the beginning of her nightmares?_

Niles understood the power of dreams. He himself had been subjected to years of torment, sleepless nights, and pain at the hands of nightmares. Typically, they were inspired by his worst memories; occasionally, they had consisted of nothing but the recollection of feelings, such as anguish and even torture experienced in his past. Over the years, those dreams had become increasingly infrequent, but he could not forget their influence. He still hesitated to fall asleep, and some nights, the vaguest hint of an approaching dream was enough to cause him to cling to Corrin's hand until the early hours of the morning.

 _Nora's only three,_ he thought, watching his daughter pick at his buttons. _Her life has been uneventful. Why should she been haunted by dreams terrifying enough to silence her?_

Memories of her earliest years gave Niles hope. Nora had been able to respond as a baby, using gurgles and smiles in place of words; as a toddler, she had been about to speak before the nightmares began. Thinking this way convinced him each time he hesitated to address her that maybe, this time, she would answer him.

"Nora," Niles whispered, tracing the outline of her pale face with his finger. She didn't look up. "Nora, stop playing with the button. You're going to break it." She continued to twist the loose thread.

Niles sighed — deep, painful, heavy with dread. "Somehow, kid, I'm sure this is my fault," he murmured. "I've lived a terrible life, I've done terrible things; still, I'm married to your mother, my greatest friend is a prince, and I have four perfect children. It sounds insane, but you really are perfect. Except, you can't seem to hear me…" Niles paused and hooked one black curl behind Nora's pointed ear. "That must be karma catching up to me. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry you're the one suffering for it."

He wrapped his arms tightly about Nora. She seemed startled, but quickly relaxed. She released her hold on his shirt's button, rested her head on his chest, and hummed a short note of contentment. Niles imagined she was going back to sleep.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing her hair. "I'm so sorry."

Nora said nothing. Then, slowly, she reached out one hand and took a fistful of his hair. She didn't tug, but clung to him, meeting her father's gaze as he stared at her. A smile flashed across Nora's small face; then she closed her eyes, returning to her rest.

Niles watched her, his chest tight with confusion. "Were you trying to talk to me?" he asked breathlessly.

Nora didn't respond. She was asleep.

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 **Ending Note: I enjoy writing Niles. I think he's a very interesting character to explore, and possibly has a very gentle, protective side that would be brought to light by his raising three daughters. (Though he did not have much of a chance to evolve as a parent for Nina.) Due to my recent research into the Autism Spectrum, I was inspired to write a story in which a young child seemed to be displaying some of the effects of the disorder. I chose Niles as the parent in this story because I wanted to discover how he - usually so brash and cold-hearted - would handle the situation. I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for reading.**


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